


Crawling Back to You

by Spambrah



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Discipline, F/M, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multi, Romance, Rope Bondage, Sultry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-01 15:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10192520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spambrah/pseuds/Spambrah
Summary: A short fanfiction of the relationship between Commander Cullen Rutherford and the Inquisitor in Drgaon Age: Inquisition.I mess up the timeline I think, but it's after the Winter Palace, after Adamant, but before the final push against Corypheus.





	1. Denying What Could Be All His

Cullen sat in the corner of the Herald’s Rest tavern on the ground floor, furtherest from the entrance door. The tavern was crowded – the Herald was returning after another dragon fight this night, and many were excited for her victorious return. The Inquisition’s spirits rose with each small victory, but Cullen’s heart panged each time he saw the small party leave each time for some far away land. He worried for his fellow companions, both because a loss of life would hit the Inquisition hard, and because they were all his friends. These people had become his close companions and advisors over the last few months since Corypheus uprise, and by damn he would ensure they remained alive in the coming months too. It was only ever going to get harder, even if they did defeat Corypheus.

  
  
“Hey, curly why the long face? Our great Inquisitor is returning,” Varric mused at Cullen. The small dwarf was returning from Cabot’s bench with drinks in hand. Varric placed a mug of ale in front of the commander, and took a seat himself, leaning his back against the wall. They sit in silence for a moment, listening to the general hum of the tavern itself. Soon this hum would be a roar of cheer and good spirits if everything was well. Cullen was begging everything to be fine.  
“Why does it have to be her that goes out and slays the dragons? We have plenty of men who are perfectly capable of completing the task!” The words came out of Cullen’s mouth brittle and tinged with anger, “Bull’s men would be more than capable of the task. Why does she insist she goes with such a small party? And with that damned Qunari as well.”

  
“Careful Commander, it almost sounds like you’re in love,” Varric replied. Cullen gave him a sideways glance, warning him away from the topic. “You know why I bring the topic up, Varric. What if she was killed? What do we do then? The whole world would end, and all our struggles would be for naught! It’s not even sensible for such a small band of people to go fight a dragon! We’ve lost so many people since Adamant.”  
“And that’s exactly why she does it – why we haven’t gone to fight Corypheus despite knowing he is looking for the Eluvians. She knows the morale of our people is low, and that by being a grand hero, she can rally more support from our allies when we are ready to go for the final push. I’ve been with her, traipsing all over the Hissing Wastes in the sandy desert, where there is nothing but heat and anger in the land. I have seen the toll on her body, but she is so much stronger than we see on the surface. I really do believe Andreste is helping her make the right choice, and this is the right choice now, Cullen.”

  
Varric’s reply was logical and compassionate, there was nothing the Commander could say.

  
“Besides, I believe Iron Bull has had his horns pulled down by some other temptress in the keep, and this woman has much darker skin than the Inquisitor.”  
Cullen smirked at the thought, it was well known the Iron Bull was enamoured with Vivienne, despite his history with the ladies in the keep. Rumours of his stoutness of muscle, and presence in the bedroom when alone with him had many ladies leaving Bull’s quarters weak from the waist down. However, it wasn’t Vivienne’s moans heard from the hall’s great hold above the throne one evening, and Bull’s body flushed a shade darker grey for a week every time her name was mentioned around him. Cullen didn’t dare think what she put him through, given his specific taste, nor did he care to find out himself firsthand.

  
A great horn could be heard being blown, echoing through the keep, the sound slightly muted. It blew one long baritone, followed by three short, and another long baritone cord, signalling the return of the Inquisitor’s party. Word had come through days before from Liliana’s crows that they were sighted near Redcliffe, parading a freshly killed dragon’s skull, so it was only soon that they would return the Skyhold. The skull itself would be pulled by cart by horse, and guarded closely if some Venatori fanatic try to steal the skull themselves. There would not have been any rest, even after defeating a mighty creature as a dragon. This was the Inquisition third slain dragon, and they were gathering a name for themselves quickly, exactly as intended by Liliana and Josephine. Josephine. The ambassador had begun penning letters as soon as the crows came in from the Hinterlands, informing their connections of another great victory they could also share with the Inquisition, if they gave up some of their soldiers or resources of course.

  
The tavern erupted in a roar of cheer and happiness from its current residents. Even Sera peaked her head over the wooden barrier, laughing at the happiness of the people. Cullen was sure she was planning on some way to desecrate the newly slaughtered dragon’s head as some gimmick. It didn’t matter, it made the people feel the Inquisition was a solid and safe place to find sanction, a home in which they could feel comfortable to make a difference in world, and protect their fellow peer, be they elf, mage, Templar or commoner. Varric looked at Cullen, a smile on his face, “This is why we do anything at all Commander.”

  
The band road to the tavern, reining their horses in hard, kicking dirt towards the crowd that had gathered outside. He could see her from here, her bow raised high above her heard in one hand. She bellowed in cheer with the crowd and they closed in on her crying out “Welcome Herald!” or “Inquisitor!” The Iron Bull, Solas, and Blackwall the Imposter moved their horses in behind hers, and they crowd enveloped them too as they dismounted. In the distance, Cullen could see the cart with a large head being pulled in by a horse walked by an Inquisition scout. Many of the crowd walked over to the dragon’s head in awe of such a creature, which gave the Inquisitor a chance to dismount. He begun to get up, his face already set to his commander attitude, “We best greet our great Inquisitor and thank Andreste for her return.” Cullen got a step in before he doubled over his stomach in pain, and sharp grunt escaped his mouth.  
“Cullen! What’s wrong?” Varric was by his side as soon as he saw his friend double over in pain, concern painted on his face.  
“Ah, damn it, not now. Why now?”  
“Should I get a healer Cullen?” Varric asked.  
“NO!” Cullen snarl escaped his mouth, causing Varric to more concerned than annoyed at the tone, “No, I will be alright. Ah, Maker’s Mercy, please.”

  
The Inquisitor was making her way towards the door of the tavern, Cabot had ale lined up ready to go, and he caught a glimpse of the commander, his brow furrowed in apprehension. He pointed a thumb upstairs, and the commander stumbled to the stairs. “Keep them away for a few more minutes Varric. I will be fine shortly. Just an old wound acting up,” he lied to Varric. Varric gave him a deep stare, he knew what the cause for his friend’s pain was already, knowing the rumours the Templar had stopped taking lyrium. He nodded nonetheless, and the commander made his way up the stairs as quickly as he could manage. He moved to the third floor, away from prying eyes, but still within hearing distance of the people below. Not that he could make out much from all the cheer and happiness. He sat heavily in a chair, staring down the gaps in the staircase and rails. The pain clawed at his chest as he sucked in shallow breaths. He could see Cassandra enter the tavern, and she gave quick glance up, but she could not see the commander. He was most grateful to her, but he did not need her to come up to him now as he was. He felt dishevelled, weak and unfit for the Inquisition, these thoughts gnawing at his pride in self and his ability. Her face was also weary from training Inquisition soldiers all day, a duty he failed to complete. He would have done it himself, but he had been wracked by this sickness inside him all day. Sweat began to bead on his upper lip, and he was beginning to feel trapped in his think fur overcoat, his head pounding to the beat of his heart. It was hot close to the roof from the fires below, and Cullen felt nauseated by the smell of food. His eyes confirmed that the kitchen staff had begun bringing in platters of sausages, potatoes, soups of all kind, and meat from nugs. Hours before, twenty mountain goats had been brought up from the keeps ice cold storage and prepared for pit roasting, the meat sizzling and crackling, and hungry children staring in awe at the amount of food being prepared. The thought of the festivity in the early afternoon brought happiness to him, to think their people would be grateful for their successes, but now the food nauseated him. Cullen could imagine now as the festivities were about to begin, the sun cresting low over the mountains, tables, chairs and linens would be assembled in front of the tavern’s door, candles would be lit, veilfire torches would line the walls of the keep which would be guarded by his men closely in case of attack. A band from Orlais had arrived with the Inquisitor and poor Maryden would be pushed outside to play for the peoples outside in the cold evening air. Orlasian music drifted up through to Cullen, reminding him of the accursed Winter Palace.

  
His mind wandered through the thought, beginning with his annoyance at the Orlais’, both subtle and aggressive, asking his hand for a dance, or pinching his buttocks without being seen. All in those damned masks, he would never be able to identify who it was, and he had even figured out they were swapping masks throughout the evening to keep him off their trail. He took everything in good graces as possible as instructed by Liliana and Josephine to keep as many Orlais’ people off the Inquisitor’s trail. Which was difficult considering she had climbed a vineyard in the garden to gather more information about Celene’s potential assassination. Dorian had tried to best to make an arse of himself as the Inquisitor vaulted up the vines, but some people had seen the woman climb to the banisters above. Later they would realise it was for Celene’s own good that she discovered information about Gaspard’s potentially threat towards their Queen, but at the time, the gossip run quickly through the party. It almost gave away the Inquisitor as a prying sort, which would have resulted in the Inquisition being thrown out of the party, but she had moved away from the area by time Celene’s guards came to inspect her actions. The Inquisitor had done well that evening, and made a powerful ally with Orlais much to Josephine’s pleasure. After Celene had declared there would be peace in Orlias, the Inquisitor retreated to the outside air, clearly tired from the ordeal. He left his post from the wall, moving swiftly through the crowd. A young lady had grabbed his arm, “Oh you must dance once Commander Cullen, it is rude not to dance at such a party. Especially the Queens!” He pulled his arm quickly away from the masked woman, pulling her towards him accidentally, almost tripping over her own skirts. “I am sorry ma’am, I did not mean to hurt you. I am required elsewhere immediately.” The woman clearly looked offended, and tsked in disapproval, pulling a fan from a sleeve from her dress. He could see Cassandra nearby, and she had small look of disapproval on her face at Cullen’s behaviour. He needed to be courtly as possible, no matter how little the matter. “I think the Commander is needed by our dearest Ambassador madam, I apologise for his actions,” she said in a her thick Nevarran accent. Cullen bowed his head slightly, and changed his direction to meet with Josephine. The Ambassador was with her youngest sister, in an animated conversation with the young masked girl.

  
“Ah, Commander Cullen, it is a pleasur-“  
“Seeker Cassandra requires your assistance with one of the ball’s guests, Ambassador. Would you be able to help her?” Cullen interrupted.  
Josephine looked slightly taken aback by his interuption, but she nodded her head in confirmation, “Of course Commander. Would you please stay with my sister here and keep her out of trouble? I’m sure you could tell her one of your stories about the Inquisition, she is most enamoured with our cause.”  
Liliana smoothly walked into the conversation, “I would be more than happy to attend to your sister, Josephine. I believe our Commander is needed elsewhere.”  
Cullen raised his eyes at Liliana, making the connection that she probably already knew the Inquisitor had been probing him incessantly many weeks before at Haven, and that this was probably his only chance to meet with her in private. She smiled at him, looking at him fully in the eye, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. She probably knew much more about the Commander than he cared for anyone to know.

  
“Of course, Liliana. I will go see what our dear mess our poor Seeker has caused,” Josephine glanced at Cullen and Liliana quickly before departing the small party.  
“Thank you Liliana,” he spoke softly, careful to keep his tone formal in front of the girl.  
“It’s quite alright Commander, there is nothing else I would like to see more,” she replied.  
Cullen found the Inquisitor slightly bent over the stone railing, probably taking in the scenery before she returned to the party. He felt annoyed at himself for denying the Inquisitor when she first asked for dance with him, his response had been abrupt. He thought he has missed his chance with her.

  
“Is there room enough for two out here?” he asked of the Inquisitor.  
“Cullen! How nice of you to come see me. How are you finding the party?”  
“It’s alright Inquisitor, I hadn’t come out here to talk more about the party. How are you feeling?”  
A small smile pulled the corners of her mouth and shaped her cheeks more. He had never seen her smile so close before, and his heart lurched in his throat.  
“I’m fine, just tired, tonight has been very long,” she replied. He joined her on the railing, leaning his hand on the railing, shifting himself to face her more. She looked down at the courtyard below, watching the patrons below move around, the laughter echoing off the stone.  
“I know it is foolish, but I was worried for you tonight,” Cullen spoke softly. Maker’s Breath, had he really been so forward? He never intended to be. His heart beat faster, but he had already decided to commit. He placed his hand lightly on the Inquisitor’s shoulder.  
“I may never get another chance like this, so I must ask.” He moved away from her and gave her his most sincere bow he could muster, hoping his voice would not break from his nerves. He prayed in his mind she would accept, looking into her eyes. Her lips pulled into a thin line as she saw him move into position, her head shaking slightly. His heart sunk a little as she did that, but he had already moved.

  
“May I have this dance, my lady?”  
“I’m not really in the mood for dancing,” she replied, upturning her nose slightly. His heart sunk low,  
“Of course,” he replied, placing his arm around her waist. He had no idea why he did, thinking she was going to shove his arm away and stride off annoyed. Instead, she nestled her head in the crook of his shoulder, and he pulled her closer. He thought she could probably hear his heart pound through his neck, his thoughts in complete disarray. He savoured the moment, unsure of what to do but hold her.  
“Why do I keep crawling back to you?” she whispered to herself, so quiet over the laughter and the music from below and behind them. He didn’t move at all, sure she did not intend to say those words aloud.

  
“Elva, I’ve wanted to tell you something, but there has never been a moment. A good moment. A perfect moment. There probably never will be,” Cullen paused for a moment, shaking his head slight, “Maker, give me courage.” He moved himself to face the Inquisitor straight on again.  
“No, stop Commander. The nights are mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day. This is not the place to say those things where there are eyes and ears everywhere,” she stressed ears the most. Cullen stepped back, his face returning to his stoic Commander self.  
“I thought - ah, I apologise Inquisitor, this mistake won’t happen again,” he stiffly turned and strode towards the hall door, returning to the party.

  
“I’m sorry,” she whispered under her breath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party is in full swing now, and many people are happy at the Inquisitor's return.

Cullen’s attention returned to the tavern below, many cheering the Herald’s name over and over again, placing their hands on her as if by touching her they could become closer to Andreste herself. Upon seeing her enter the tavern, the band begun to play “The Dawn Will Come”, a tradition upon the Inquisitor’s return. The people started singing the favoured song, the song they all sung together when Haven fell, and spirits were low. They thought they were all doomed when the Inquisitor could not be found in all the snow and rubble, but when she had been discovered, tears of relief were shed and sadness grew in their hearts as they saw her unconscious form. Only then did they truly realise her sacrifice, that this woman could not beat Corypheus or his army alone. It renewed the people’s love for her, blessing her as she was carried by, even if she could not hear any of their praise and thanks at the time. Cullen had shared in the people’s worry himself, and he refused to move from the fires in view of her bedroll as he watched Mother Giselle tend to her body.

Helvagen was standing on a table, drink in hand, singing heartily. Now, this same song was sung in anticipation, and in happiness that the night would be long, that the cheer would last, the shepherds would be found and the dawn would renew the Inquisitions vigour. Iron Bull hoisted her off the table before she could fall forward too far, clearly drunk, seating her on top of his shoulders, and she continued to sing as he twirled around in a circle. Cullen realised he must have dosed for a while, as the festivities were in full effect now, and many below him were drunk from the wines and ales Cabot had been pulling from his storage. Cullen felt the ale affecting his senses, feeling a slight buzz in his body. He couldn’t feel the pain anymore, and decided he would join the merrymaking below. The Iron Bull had placed her on the ground now, but she kept twirling round, and round, her laughter filling the hall, drowned out by the people’s own cries of joy and laughter.

“The great Inquisitor!” Bull roared over the crowd, and Helvagen pulled Sera into a spinning dance, unable to contain her joy. The women laughed together, becoming dizzy the faster they span around. Sera let go of the other woman, who stumbled at the sudden release, but she was caught by Blackwall.

“Steady there, Inquisitor,” he said in a low tone. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and he put her to rights before letting go, “Please be careful.”

“Thank you, Blackwall,” she said sternly. Despite her decision to keep the man in the Inquisition, she did not trust him entirely after his scandal.  
Helvagen moved to a large table where her companions sat, gathering a small plate and piled on some of the sweetened meats and root vegetables. She was still in her leather armour, and had to shift lightly over so she wasn’t imposing on Josephine’s space.

“You could have broken your neck like that Elva!” Josephine berated.

“Ah, Josey, you’re always complaining I need to be more human instead of the Chosen One! Besides, I love to dance. I would never give up and opportunity to dance,” Helvagen teased, “Is there anyone here who catches your eye tonight?, Jospehine There are plenty from Orlais who have come to celebrate our successes, and I am sure they would love the comfort of your feathered bed than their travel caravans.”

“Oh Elva! You demon. Ah, Commander Cullen, come join us and eat, Varric mentioned you haven’t eaten yet,” Josephine waved the commander over. He was perplexed at the Inquisitor’s answer. Varric shrugged his shoulders at the ambassador’s statement, feigning an apologetic face.

‘Loved to dance? You denied me that evening, Inquisitor, and break my heart in two,’ he thought.

“Did you dance much in your house, Inquisitor?” Cullen asked, eyeing her.

She poked a sweet potato onto her fork rather aggressively, “All ladies are taught to dance, and formal dance is the preferred method. I just enjoy dancing immensely, it is both pleasing to the body, and to all who watch as well. What better way to show merriment through music and movement, Commander? I would dance with anyone, if they asked.”

“They teach dancing in Orlais as well, although I wasn’t very good at it,” Josephine added. Cullen waved his hand at Cabot, signalling a need for more drinks, who nodded in return. A serving boy moved towards Cabot’s bar, ready to take anything around the room at the tavern keep’s command.

“Did you ever learn to dance, Commander?” Josephine asked after a moment of silence. Her cheeks were slightly rosy from the drink. Sera snickered at the question, “What, this tight man?”

“No, Templars do not have time to learn. Or anyone to practice with for that matter. And what use would dancing have?” he replied, his voice tinged with some hurt at being mocked.

“I bet you could though, Curly. I bet you could dance better than Cassandra,” Varric goaded, “What do you think of a bet? A challenge? Dance with the Inquisitor, and whoever dances best either gets a sneak peek at my new book I am writing, or something of equal value.”

Cassandra glared at Varric, but her eyes sparkled at the potential reward. 

“Agreed. Commander?” her voice inflected in a questioning tone.

Commander stared at the Inquisitor, trying to keep his face as stoic as possible. She grinned at him, her eyes glinted with mirth and challenge. 

‘Maker’s breath, those eyes, she could ask me to do anything staring at me like that, and I would,’ Cullen thought to himself.

“I, ah, would that even be. I mean, are you sure?” He stammered. He didn’t want to have his heart break even more. To be denied like he was at the Winter Palace, and to deal with the aftermath at the War Table, or in passing was such an embarrassment to his pride. He had worried about if she thought he was incompetent at his duties as Commander, unable to control himself at an evening where the Inquisition needed to be one alliance in their objective for the evening. He felt he had failed her, which resulted in their awkwardness ever since.

“Are you denying me fun, Commander? How insensitive of you,” she laughed at his awkwardness.

‘Is this a ploy? Is she mocking me? Is she going to make a fool of me?’ His inner turmoil chewed at his confidence, making him afraid of the potential outcome.  
‘Ah! Maker have mercy, I would do anything for you, Inquisitor. If only you knew,’ he decided.

“Fine then, I agree! Ladies first though, Seeker,” Cullen smirked at Cassandra. Cassandra rose from her stool, lending her hand to the Inquisitor.

“Music please,” Helvagen demanded. 

The Orlais’ band began to play a light tune, the women bowed to each other respectfully, but when they rose, they both smiled at each other in jest. They began to dance together, awkwardly at first as they were watched by all in the tavern. Eventually their movements begun to move with the flow of the music, their bodies synchronised together, swaying like flowers in a light breeze. Their audience begun clapping to the sound of the music, increasing faster as the music rose to its crescendo. The women were panting now, oblivious to their surroundings captured in their moment. Cullen watched, raptured by their grace, disbelieving the Seeker even had it in her. Perhaps he had already lost the challenge! The music was at its crest, building the energy in room as the people watched their figureheads move together in intimacy. The ladies came together at the last moment, synchronised to a symbol crash, bodies pushed tight together. Their hands were clasped together, and Helvagen moved her left hand to grasp Cassandra and herself together at the midriff. Cassandra returned the gesture, and they skipped a few paces forward towards the table Cullen sat at, before Helvagen let go of their bodies, twirling under their leading arms. Her body came to a rest in the marriage pose as the music closed to its abrupt end. Both ladies let out hard breaths, laughing at their excited exertion. Helvagen lost her balance, tipping to her left. She threw out a hand, moving her legs underneath her, leaning back to allow her body to fall on her rump instead. Laughter pealed out of her mouth and the crowd applauded. Cassandra moved to help Helvagen up, also smiling vigorously. Her face was flushed from their performance. Cullen knew it was from embarrassment at such a show, but he was sure many mistook it for a few too many drinks and the dance itself.

“Beat that, Commander,” Cassandra said as she returned to the table.

“Ha, this will be easy Seeker. Are you ready for your next dance, Inquisitor?” Cullen asked, his voice low.

She was still breathing heavy, her whole body in a state of elation. One hand leaned against the back of her chair, “No, commander, not quite yet. I’m afraid my body isn’t quite ready for more fun.”

“HAH! Everyone should be ready for more pleasure, boss,” Bull crowed from his seat across the table, “Especially from one as handsome as the Commander.”

Helvagen blushed deeply, but ignored Bull’s words. She looked at Cullen, who averted his gaze immediately.

“Then is Cullen forfeit? Does that mean I win?” Cassandra asked, her question directed towards Varric.

“Ah, I’m sorry Cassandra, it seems unfair if Cullen doesn’t even get to compete,” Varric replied. Cassandra clearly was upset by those words. “I’m sure I could let you read one chapter though. Maybe get your thoughts on what’s written.”  
“I’m moving upstairs. It’s getting pretty noisy down here, and it looks like the floor is turning into a dance party now,” Helvagen commented. Cullen looked around. She was right, more people were dancing, and the small tavern was becoming overcrowded. Cabot was making the serving boy push table and chairs out the way to make more room.  
“An excellent idea,” Josephine clasped her hands together, “But I should keep our Orlais’ guests entertained. I bid you a good evening all.”   
Helvagen moved towards the stairs, and beckoned her companions to follow. Many people called her name, asking her to join them, but she shook her head, apologies flowing from her lips. Only Liliana and Cullen followed the Inquisitor, the other giving excuses, either wanting to catch up with friends, or enjoy the festivities. The three walked to the third floor, ignoring Cole in the corner who had been sitting on the floor dangling his legs over the edge. He looked bemused as he watched the crowd below. He must have been most happy with all the energy in the air.

“How did the fight go in the Emerald Graves, Inquisitor?” Liliana asked Helvagen once she had seated herself. Helvagen pulled her leather gloves off, placing them carefully on the table. Her weapon had probably been taken by one of the Inquisition’s soldiers to her quarters when she had dismounted her horse early that day.  
“The dragon itself was easy enough to slay, but there were Venatori waiting for us when we left the Hinterlands. Someone has tipped them off. Some of the Inquisition’s men died to protect a damn skull,” Helvagen replied. She sighed heavily, staring Liliana as she asked her next question, “Do we have to keep going Liliana?”  
“I’m afraid so, Elva. You can see the effects on our people. With your leave, Inquisitor, we can talk about it tomorrow” Liliana bowed, and left. 

“Can I get you anything, Inquisitor?” Cullen asked.  
She looked at him, studying his face. Her eyes felt like they were considering his soul. He felt his face shift to its usual stoic facade, becoming the Commander in front of her. It was an automatic reaction he had enacted since their time at the Winter Palace, and he hated he couldn’t be intimate with this person beyond their roles in the Inquisition.  
“Don’t do that, Cullen. Please, don’t,” she spoke quietly. “Sit with me for a moment.”

Cullen nodded once, lowering himself slowly to the other chair at the small table. Cole looked over at them, looking like he was searching for the right words to say, but he was distracted by the serving boy climbed the stairs bringing over a tray laden with drinks.  
“Finally! My thanks, boy, but you best return to the lower floors or Cabot will have you scrubbing the floors daily,” Helvagen jested as the boy placed the drinks on the table, her face light with mirth. Cullen could see that deep set tired that seemed to be dragging her down, despite her casual attitude. The serving boy nodded once in silence, nervous in the presence of the Inquisition commanding people.

“Master Cabot has opened several cases of wine, and wanted you to try them all, Herald. I’ll get back to my duties now,” the timid boy spoke, hurrying away as quickly as possible.  
“Still a demon under all this skin,” she murmured. Cullen didn’t speak, feeling he wouldn’t say the right thing to make her happy. He picked up a one of the many goblets of wine and sipped at it thoughtfully. Helvagen drained one of the goblets within seconds.

“Ah! That burns a little! Still nice though. Heh, poor Cabot would tell me off for sculling,” Helvagen spoke to herself.  
“Elva-,” Cullen tried to start some form of conversation, but when he looked at his companion in the eyes, his throat closed on the words before they could move to the surface. Her eyes simmered. Did she hear that catch in his voice? 

“Ah, Cullen, look at your beautiful hair. Have you ever thought about how fierce you look with your mane of gold, and the scar on your lip?” Helvagen slurred, “Do you roar like a lion too?”

He chuckled to himself, “Hah, maybe only in battle.”

Helvagen stood suddenly, her eyes never leaving his. She moved slowly to stand in front of him, pushing him back until his shoulders rested on the wall behind him. She placed a leg between his own, forcibly moving them wide. She leaned down, putting her mouth against his ear, “I wonder if you fuck like a lion as well.” She began kissing his ear, twisting around to sit in his lap. She trailed her kisses down his neck. He didn’t dare move for fear of doing the wrong thing, scaring off this moment. 

Helvagen’s kissing began to slow, and he realised his inaction probably was being interpreted as disinterest. Would she push him away if he returned the gesture? He didn’t care anymore, his pants tightening in response to being touched in such a way by a woman. He grabbed her hair with his hand, aligning his arm along her back to hold her body up, pulling her head back a little roughly. She smirked at him, a little “ah” escaping her lips at his sudden movement. He kissed her lips fully, not caring that the little demon in the corner was watching. His other hand dropped the goblet on the floor, not caring for the wine, pulling her hips closer to his body, holding her steady. She arched her back to push herself closer to him, not that it made any difference in her leather armour. She wondered if the armour was hurting him, as he was not in his armour, but he still wore his thick fur shawl over his shoulders. He didn’t seem to mind. 

A sharp laugh from below pulled her out of the moment, and she pushed hard against him to move away, getting the response she wanted. He let go of her body and hair, his legs parting slightly, allowing her feet to push herself off him and stand herself right again.  
“I’m sorry Commander, this was inappropriate of me,” Helvagen spoke sternly, more to herself than the man.  
“Why? Why did you stop? Look at you, you’re enjoying yourself, your cheeks are flushed. Do you know how deep you’ve planted yourself into my life already? Are you deliberately trying to push me to the edge? I am besotted with you, I would do anything for you” Cullen spoke, exasperated, “Do you want to know if this feeling flows both ways?”

“I can’t- “

“I was sort of hoping you would stay,” he murmured, “You’re breaking me in two. I’ve been trying to kiss you, and I don’t even know if you feel the same as I do. We could be together, if you wanted to.”

His words were spoken slowly, like a poem he had heard before. 

“Sit down, Inquisitor,” Cullen commanded. 

His voice sent a shiver through her body, and he could see the thought of his voice affecting her. She moved back to the chair, seating herself quietly. She could see him now, both as Cullen and the Commander. His body shifted slightly, and he rolled his shoulders, his fur shawl capturing the light in interesting ways. Cullen hoped he was intimidating her, hoping that maybe she wanted to be treated like one of his soldiers that would obey his command. She could truly understand why they called him the lion. Her eyes were caught in his, and he picked up another cup from the table, sipping it thoughtfully.

“Drink.”

He could see her body was compelled to obey the commend before her mind could argue otherwise.  
‘Ah, is that what she wants? To lose control for once?’ Cullen thought to himself, ‘Is this what she needs from me? To control her?’ He decided to test his theory, throwing any caution he had practiced around her at all times. 

“I quite enjoyed what you were doing to me, Inquisitor. I’ve quite enjoyed your company for some time now,” Cullen dipped his voice low, seeing her mesmerised by him, “And I would hate to miss out on enjoying more of what you could provide me.” His voice grew bolder the more he talked. She didn’t interrupt him, enraptured by the way his lips moved. She took another sip from her wine, her lips glossed sightly from the liquid on her lips.

“I think you and I both need some release from the tension between us, Inquisitor. I need to see you above me, pleased and released. I could command you, guide you, nourish your need for obedience”

She smiled at him, and he felt endangered in her presence. His hand moved to his waist where his sword would have been normally.

“Now, now Commander, do you really think you have control over me right now? Do you think I listened to you because I needed to be obedient?” she responded, “I don’t need to be submissive for some man. I would never crawl to please you. Would you relinquish control completely like that for me?”

Cullen rolled the thought in his head, the thought of Helvagen above him riding him, enjoying their bodies intertwined. He could imagine her face furrowed in annoyance if he was unsatisfactory, and could imagine himself begging to tell him what to do. He was a slave to lyrium withdrawal now, and he could be a slave for this woman if she needed that. Was that what she needed, was to control him in bed?

“For you, always.”

“Then, commander, meet me in your quarters above your office wearing nothing but that mane of yours,” Helvagen ordered.  
Cullen didn’t move at first, unsure if she truly was going to come to his quarters, if he heard her right. His heart pumped faster at the thought of coming together with the Inquisitor.

“Move now, or else this offer is gone.”

He stood immediately, moving to the stairs. Cole stood fixated at them both, quiet for the duration of their elopement.

“Not a word to anyone Cole,” Cullen spoke to the man.

He shook his head, pointing at the Inquisitor. “She is going to help you,” he said before disappearing from mortal view.

“Don’t move once you are there, until the dawn,” Helvagan added before Cullen began moving down the stairs. He dragged a hand down his face, righting his belt to hide his erection, and finally ran his hand through his curls, curing them from any evidence of their heated moments before. Was he really going to listen to her? He was unsure of the answer, but he was sure this was what he wanted. She hadn’t wanted his words of compassion when he tried to speak of them, but he could start with this relationship with her physically, if that was she needed. Trust and love could come later.

“Ah, commander! There you are! I’ve been looking for you forever. I heard you got denied a dance from the Inquisitor again! No worries old chap, I have just the girl for,” Dorian called Cullen over as he descended to the ground floor. His black-haired friend had a lovely girl under his arm, her cheeks rosy pink and swell from all the laughing from the jovial festivities.

“Not now, Dorian. And that’s hardly even appropriate for me! I’m sorry madam, about Dorian. I’m sure there is someone much younger who would be more than delighted to dance with you,” Cullen replied. He glanced up the stairs to see Helvagen staring down at the encounter, a smirk on her lips. Cullen licked his lips nervously, and returned his attention to his friend, “I am going out to see to our guests outside.” 

Cullen slipped through the crowd, trying to move fast against the tide of merry, drunk people. He thought he heard his name a couple of times, but he couldn’t see who spoke it over the crowd. So many people gathered in the one location, it was asking for an attack to happen. Haven flashed through his mind, heat and fear coursing through his body. He had failed so many in Haven; if only he had been taking lyrium to make him stronger. He pushed the thought aside, focusing on Helvagen instead, thinking of the courage it had taken to run back at a full army Corypheus had. She had chosen to bury Haven, and accept her death in doing so, hoping it would destroy the creature that had opened the breach. This was the type of person he aspired to be, and he could become closer to it soon by being with her.

He ascended the stairs behind the empty stalls, his thoughts still on lyrium. He had a perverse idea of ingesting some now to become strong enough to last the full night for Helvagen. As soon as he thought it, he was angry with himself, berating himself for such as idea. A good idea, and one he would use if she asked, if she required it. Ah, Maker, what was happening to him? Would he really throw away all his hard work for her, the months of pain he had endured in the hopes of proving Templars could be saved from the poison?

He pushed open his doors and walked to his desk, opening the draw with his lyrium container in it. He paused for a moment, then pushed the box aside, picking up the wax candles he reserved for when he worked late into the night. He picked up his flint, and moved up the ladder to his quarters. The room was sparse, fitting for himself as a commanding officer, but now he thought it felt bare and void. The hole in the ceiling spilled moonlight into the room, reminding him he required little in his life. Not love, or passion, not even a complete ceiling over his head. He was a solider for the Inquisition. He sighed, shifting things in the room, unsure if he could even go through with what was about to happen. He hadn’t even been with a woman before! What would she think of his fumbling? He did confess these things to her, and he hoped she would understand his inexperience.

‘Ah, screw it,’ he thought to himself, unbuttoning his shirt, and removing the clothes he wore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As before - please let me know what you think of my writing style. Please feel free to point out any mistakes.  
> I hope you enjoyed it though! More soon! The next chapter will focus on Vivienne and The Iron Bull.


	3. Becoming the Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helvagen is given a gift from Vivienne to prepare herself for what she wants to accomplish.

The night had only truly begun when the moon was high, and many kegs lined the keep’s walls, a testament of how much the Inquisition and its guest could consume. The festivities were in full swing now. Bull eyed the fire pits that had probably been freshly dug today, meat of all kind being tended to by the kitchen staff. It smelt wondrous, and many of the keeps staff carried platters laden with food, placing them in the centre of tables set amongst the dirt in front of the tavern. Bull had only seen one tussle between a mage and a Templar earlier in the evening, but it was over a trivial matter, and the men soon sorted themselves out before he thought to intervene. They were beginning to get along, realising that their differences meant little against the impending doom that Corypheus guaranteed if the demon lived. 

Despite all the commotion and movement, Bull couldn’t focus his attention on any of it. It washed over him in a wave of emotion, dulled by his own desire to meet one special lady in white. 

‘Vivienne, you vixen, where are you this evening? Still sitting high in your loft, too good to join the rabble in their enjoyment?’ Bull mused to himself. 

He glanced over at his Chargers, pleased they were enjoying themselves thoroughly. They were playing some sort of dice game with the scout Bull met every time they explored a new area. Of course, she would be attracted to his Chargers, they were skilled in different tactics, as she was. Bull thought of asking her to join the Chargers after this was complete. She was great at finding positions to post camp for the Inquisition, but this could easily be moulded to suit his needs. A scout that could move through the wilderness undetected, spying on his enemies and finding their weaknesses would be very valuable.

‘Yes, she would be a wonderful addition.’

“Come join us you horned dog, and lose your money to Harding,” Krem called to Bull over the noise.

“Hah! Is she giving you a run for your money, Krem? Too bad! You still have so much to learn,” Bull replied.

Bull spotted Cullen exiting the tavern, surprised to see the Commander retiring so early. Usually he stayed up as late as his own soldiers, checking in with them, making sure they were happy with their current situation while their mouths were loose with drink. Iron Bull knew the commander was expected to greet guests and trade stories with them to entertain. Instead, he looked most distracted, and Bull watched him hurry up the stairs near the merchant’s stall to his quarters. Soon after, Helvagen exited the tavern, her human eyes scanning the crowds searching for someone as well. Her eyes descended onto Bull, and she headed straight for him. 

“May I have a word with you, the Iron Bull?” Her voice was calm and close to normal, but Bull sensed a moment of urgency in her voice. Was something happening in the keep? Had they been infiltrated by a Venatori spy? Or by the Qun?

“Of course, boss. Where shall we go?” Bull started striding away from the small tavern, heading towards the large stairs that took people to the keeps main hall.

“I’m going to do it,” she spoke quickly, “I need your advice. I think I have found someone who will comply.”

Bull raised his eyes up at her. They had been training in the two months that they had been dragon hunting together, Bull teaching the Inquisitor to tie knots and loops. Iron Bull had been her mentor and volunteered for the Inquisitor to practice her new skills on the premise she was learning to bind prisoners. Their companions had thought it weird at the time, and when the matter was brought up around the campfires in the evenings, both the Iron Bull and Helvagen made excuses about the unusual practice. Occasionally Dorian would agree to participate, but often he made jokes about the exercise itself either due to nerves or mocked them in his own way. The Iron Bull suspected he was more interested than he let on.

“Oh, and who have you found?” Bull asked.

“Doesn’t matter, Bull. I need to borrow your equipment though,” Helvagen replied, a hand on her hip, adding defiance to her reply.

Bull chuckled low, directing their walking to Solas’ study. The elf hadn’t been seen since his return in the afternoon and had probably left as the festivities started to dream himself into the fade.

“I wanted to know what it felt like, from your view. When you’re with Vivienne,” Helvagen pushed. They entered the circular room, taking seats at the desk in the centre.

Bull mused over at the thought, ‘Every knows, huh. Ah, well, the jig is up now. What will she think of that?’

“The first advice I can give you, you know already as we have spoken of it many a time. You need a word that would not usually be spoken. A good word that is unusual in the environment,” Bull began.

“I know that! We have spoken of this topic for ages now. I want to know how it makes you feel, beneath Vivienne, under her command,” Helvagen interrupted.

“This is most personal, Elva, but I will tell you,” Bull spoke.

The first times Vivienne indicated her interest in Bull, it was Bull who had begun the jibes. Little comments in their adventures in the wilderness with the Inquisitor, and her replies had been cryptic in return, but he was sure she was interested in tasting The Iron Bull. It wasn’t until Vivienne commanded him to stop picking at his wounds, or demanded he fetch her water for a bath that Bull begun to realise this was her way of responding to his own game. That had taken many months for the relationship to form. Bull didn’t even consider the notion he might be used goods to Vivienne, that she would shape him to be a greater Charger and leader.

“Mmm, when I first went to that woman, a man of power and dominance, I thought it would be her under me that evening. She proved me wrong. She made me feel both small and giant at the same time, trapping me with her words, but tender with her actions. Ah, Elva, if only you knew how deep I truly am in trouble with this woman. The first time I ascended to her perch at the top of the throne, I was expecting a compliant person wanting to please me, and I was ready to teach her the rules. I ended up wanting to please her, and leaving dissatisfied with myself when we were done. She knew I had entered with the equipment hidden behind my back. She had been guiding me along with her suggestions the entire time. They were whipped from my hand with magic, binding my horns, and she pulled me down to her level with such strength to pull me knees.”

“Yes, I think I quite like this view of The Iron Bull, and I think this should be how you approach me in this room from now on,” Vivienne spoke from the doorway, “Those were my first words to you darling, and even now you obey them. It pleases me still. This is what you must establish, Inquisitor. A rule. The first rule, and a rule that must never be broken by your charge.”

Bull smirked at the woman who had entered the room, his attention to the Inquisitor forgotten.

“Then I recommend you figure out what ‘the word’ will be between you, to keep things safe of course. You might have the leash in hand, but it could easily be pulled from your grasp, and an angry man can be more than anyone could handle. However, I have never heard The Iron Bull say his word yet, even as I keep testing his limits. I will always have you on both knees,” she continued.

“It’s a devil that holds me down,” Bull added, speaking to Helvagen again, “But a devil I am willing to bargain with. From there, Elva, you must find what holds your charge so enraptured with you, and dangle that in front of them, rewarding them for their good actions, and punishing them for any slights. You know, if that is how you like it, and they prefer to play. Wait here, and I will gather some equipment for you, boss.”

Bull stood up, striding to the door. Viviene moved aside to let him past, not before pressing her hand to his torso, looking up at him with devilish leer on her face. The Iron Bull let a low ‘mmm’ rumble in the back of his throat, and Vivienne released him. She moved forward, taking his place at the wooden desk.

“Solas is an odd man, for someone who enjoys spirits so much, you would think he would want to witness these memories of people enjoying themselves enter the fade as well,” Vivienne start, “Do you think he will see us in his fade as we have this conversation, darling?”

Helvagen stared at the woman, worried at the question that hung in the air. Helvagen thought about the possibilities she could choose in future, and wondering if they would be imprinted on the memory of this place forever. She let the thought go, refusing to let whatever action she took tonight deter her from choosing it in the first place. She had built so much more here with the help of her fellow companions, and she didn’t care if it was going to be tainted by entering in a special relationship with the commander.

“Even if it does, what does it matter? We should be remembered as strong woman, whatever way we chose to show that as,” Helvagen replied.

“Well in that case, we simply must change your clothes, you can’t go to your pet dressed in your armour,” Vivienne clasped her hands together, “Come with me, darling. Let us see what I can share with you from my wardrobe.”

Both women moved through the corridors and made their way to Vivienne’s loft above the great hall. Couture art was discarded around her chaise lounge, and the loft was cool from the opened doors. Vivienne moved to a gold decorated cupboard against the far wall, delicate hands pulling on brass handles revealing a multitude of coloured dresses hanging in line. She pulled out an emerald green wrap dress, trimmed with gold lace that would cling to the wearer of the neck. The dress had no sleeves, intended to be worn with a shift, which Vivienne pulled from her cupboards next. 

“This will do finely, darling. There are ties on the inside here and here to make it convenient for doffing,” Vivienne pointed at the loose ties in the dress. She passed the shift and dress to Helvagen and closed her prised cupboard.

“Good luck, darling,” Vivienne dismissed the other lady with a wave of her hand.

Helvagen left the woman to her own company, slightly put out at her attitude. She moved with determined effort to her own room, focused on wasting as little time as possible. In her own quarters, she laid the dress out on her bed, smoothing it out as much as possible. Now she could see the small stitching of gold cotton around the shoulders holding onto a laced dragon and either side. The lace that would trail up her neck was one wing from a pair of dragons on either shoulder, the other wing trailing off the shoulder like a pauldron. Their bodies flowed over the shoulder, and the head of each dragon ended where her breasts would be. One the back, the dragon’s tails were intertwined together. Small golden jewels were sewn into the eyes and along the spine of the dragon. 

Helvagen doffed her armour as quickly as possible, yanking at straps impatiently. With each layer that descended to the ground, she focused on resolving her mind with clarity. She formed sentences in her mind, words for disobedience or words for nerves. She wanted to be perceived as in command of her prey, that she was the dragon in the room who required absolute attention least her pet be burned by her wrath. Helvagen stepped out of the pool of interwoven leather and metal and paced to her dresser. A basin sat on top filled with lavender scented water. She wiped at her body, scrubbing vigorously at her soft regions. She could smell the detriment of traveling on the open road, and she was glad for the scented water. Most dresses had a several open slips that allowed small potpourri bags to be inserted in discrete locations, but when a person was naked, there was nothing but their own bodily fluids to scent the skin. She spent ten minutes cleaning herself in the cool air and her body shivered from being exposed for so long. 

Once she was satisfied at her scrubbing, she scented her body with drops of perfumed oils. She could smell the stink of ale, smoke and sweat in her hair, but there was nothing to be done about it in the short term. Helvagen plaited her curls loosely, hoping her perfume would be enough to overpower the odour. She moved to her own closet and found a simple black shift of cotton. The shift was firm around her arms, a requirement of hers to be able to move efficiently without getting caught up or in her way, which Vivienne’s shift would suffer from. She moved carefully when slipping on the dress Vivienne had provided, afraid she would tear the lace with an incorrect movement. Once equipped, she slipped on simple black leather flats and strapped a belt with a dagger to her waist. The dress itself fell below her knees, and the skirt was layered with green and gold satin cloth. She felt like she needed mask from Orlais to complete her look. Helvagen departed her quarters, adamant to waste no more time least nerves get the better of her. Outside the base of her door, a pile of ropes waiting for her. Helvagen picked up the ropes and walked towards Solas’ office again, ignoring the crackle of electricity followed by grunts she could hear from above her.


	4. Rejecting Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vivienne pushes The Iron Bull too far, overconfident in her abilities to exude control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW and non-con

The Iron Bull entered the main hall again, with rope in hand. As was his habit, he looked at the overlook above the entrance, and saw Vivienne standing in white, wearing her Orlais head piece. She looked like a demon in white. She motioned a finger for him to come up to her domain then turned away from the railing to wait on her lounge. The Iron Bull moved to the Inquisitor’s door to leave the rope there, then double backed to the doors that would lead up to her domain. 

When he entered through the door to her alcove, he smirked to find her as he had thought in his mind – lying across her lounge waiting for him. Her eyes never left his as he approached closer. She shifted her leg up in a deliberate motion to allow the skin to be revealed beneath her skirts. When her head moved to follow his direction, her headdress caught the moonlight in interesting ways, and her shadow was cast long against the floor and through the hall. When The Iron Bull was in line with her chair, he sunk down to his knees slowly, and he shifted forward until he rested within arm’s reach for her to touch. His hands he placed palms facing up on his thighs and waited for her command. Vivienne inspected him, looking at his face for signs of his recent battles in the wild, and The Bull felt his chest swell with pride as his temptress cared for him.

“My Iron Bull.”

Vivienne spoke the words slowly, letting them come off her tongue with a sense of annoyance and possession.

“Mistress,” Bull replied, and he bowed his head to her in submission.

“Hands behind your back, Qunari,” she commanded. She sung her legs out from under herself to stand up. She circled him slowly, her steps echoing off into the great hall below, and finished behind him. She could see his neck was knotted tight in apprehension, giving her great satisfaction. She pulled a leather band from one of her pockets and bound the qunari’s hands behind his back, cinching the elbows together tightly. She was impressed at his posture, that he was still able to keep his head bowed down, but have his chest stretched out so far from the awkward angle. She placed a single finger between his shoulder blades and dragged it slowly up his neck, following the ridges and bumps that was his spine.

“How many times shall we reinforce the need for good posture this time Bull?” Vivienne asked. The Iron Bull didn’t move, knowing it was a rhetoric question. He had learnt the hard way to know when to answer his Mistress. He could hear her shoes click-clack as she paced over to the wall to pick up a staff. It responded to her touch with a crackle of electric energy. The Iron Bull grimaced at the sound, and regretted it instantly.

“Tut, tut dear, I feel like you don’t like my choice for this evening. Do I displease you so much, Bull? You’re more than welcome to leave immediately, and we cease this at once,” Vivienne spoke. The Iron Bull shook his head in response, “No, mistress. I am grateful for your choice.” She wasn’t tempting him with a much-needed break from their relationship, she was offering to end it. He refused to let that happen.

“Good. Well then, I think I might double the number of lashes now for that transgression, “Vivienne responded, “Move to the centre, dear, and face the hall.” Bull shuffled to the position Vivienne wanted, and took the opportunity to roll his shoulders to hold up the cramps he could feel forming in his back. He heard the staff crackle again, and heard the whirls of air as she moved the staff in a whipping motion. The Iron Bull grunted in pain as the energy whipped across his back between his arms. His skin seared in pain, and he relished the feeling. He had ached for Vivienne’s administrations during his time out in the wilds, and he tried to force himself to enjoy the effect the magic had on his skin. Vivienne continued relentlessly, and Iron Bull had counted ten lashes when he cried out in pain, his back a mass of contorted muscle. Each time the crackle came, his back arched in awkward angles, causing him to strain against his arms making his shoulders feel they dislocate. On the twelfth strike, Bull lost his balance as he arched back, and fell forward. The sweat that had formed on his body dripped to floor. He leaned against his horns to help push himself up, but Vivienne’s boot on the back of his neck prevented him from moving. 

“I’m not done yet, darling,” she spoke.

His face hurt from being pushed into the ground, but he stilled his body, and tried to slow his heaving breaths. Vivienne moved behind Bull, and cut a slit in the back of his pants. He could hear her move about the room gathering something from her prised cupboard. He used this moment to regain his senses and push through the pain singing along his back. She resumed her position behind his body again, placing an object on the ground to sit between his legs. She moved to his head and placed a leather lasso over each horn, then resumed to stand behind him.

“Up, darling. Up on your knees again. I have a present for you,” she commanded him. As Bull strained to rise again, Vivienne assisted by pulling on the leather straps. She knew it would make it harder to rise with her assistance as he couldn’t use his usual tactic of using his horns to do half the job, but the Bull persevered. Once he was upright, she pulled the leather slips down, making him face upward. Her face loomed over his as she grinned down at him, blotting out the rest of the world. 

“Lower yourself onto it dear,” she spoke to him. He nodded once, and moved to let his thighs lower himself down. He could feel the object pushing against his opening, something rigid and cold, but nubbed in an unusual way. It was slick with an oily substance making entry into his cavity easier. When he felt the object begin to enter his body, his eyes flicked to Vivienne’s who stared at him in content. He could feel bumps and ridges move against him as he lowered himself further, and his body contracted around the object tightly. His erection strained at the confines of his pants at the pleasant feeling inside of his arse, and he smirked a little as he saw Vivenne notice his erection too. She crouched down to undo the laces holding his pants to his waist, letting the fabric pool at Iron Bull’s knees. She never touched his jutting erection, one of her conditions for being with him. He pushed himself down as far as he comfortably felt so. This was not the first time they had used other instruments to accentuate the conditions in which they met, and Vivienne always respected his limits. 

“No dear, I know you can fit more in,” she whispered to him, and she yanked the straps in her hand down. The motion caused Bull to lean back more than he intended to, forcing him further down the object between his legs. A cry of pain escaped his lips, and he glared at Vivienne. He tried to warn her with his eyes that this was his limit, that he did not want to go further. Although it felt pleasant enough to have this ridged thing inside of him, he did not want further inside his body. His heart hurt from her actions, and he was confused as to why she was pushing him so.

“More,” Vivienne commanded. She waited a moment this time, allowing Bull to enact her command. He shook his head at her, defying her command. He wondered at how she would respond to denying her, if she would tease him with silks over his cock again. Last time she did that, he expended his seed all over the floor from the heightened sensitivity, and she had made him clean it up by pushing the silks around with his horns. 

“Disobedience won’t be rewarded in the usual way, darling. I said more.” She tensed to yank the leather in her hands again, her eyes narrowed expecting Bull’s defiance again. He nodded his in acceptance, his eyes closed in defeat. Bull moved until his thighs touched the back of his calves and he could move no further down. He opened his eyes again, staring at the woman looming over him. The light that cast up her neck made her eyes look beady. She let go of the straps in her hands and placed them directly on his horns, running her hands up and down their length. Once she had finished inspecting them, she moved away from him, and he heard her sink to her chair again.

“Lose control, Bull,” she murmured to the Qunari man. He thanked her in his mind silently, as she allowed him to move as he wanted to. Slowly, he began to slide himself up along the object, groaning as he lowered back down. Vivienne watched, enraptured as he pleased himself. She was delighted he could take in the full girth of the glass dildo strapped to the block that Bull’s legs held onto. She had covered it in oil before to make it slick and easy to enter inside the man, which she now spent wiping off her hands with a towel. The way his arms were strapped made it harder for him to move any faster, and she could see he was becoming frustrated at the slow pace he moved himself onto the dildo. She watched as his arse clenched as he moved down, drawing out grunts of pleasure from the Bull. He hands opened and closed sporadically, trying to grasp onto something to assist in his movements. Sweat dribbled down his back and over the bumps forming where Vivienne had lashed Bull, darkening the leather binds around his arms and hands. The grunts soon turned to small gasps as Bull was beginning to find his end. 

“I haven’t given you permission for release yet, Bull,” Vivienne broke the man’s reverie, and she revelled as he stared over his shoulder at her. His body was on the edge of satisfaction and his concentration had been broken by her voice. She could tell from his expression he was angry and frustrated at her, exactly what she wanted. He lifted himself off the contraption awaiting her next command. The muscles ticked in his back. She rose from her lounge her lounge and removed the bonds holding his arms together. The Iron Bull let out a long groan as he fell forward onto his hands, rolling his shoulders and rubbing the forearms to relieve some of the tingling he felt. He took a glance at the object between his legs – it was a curved penis of clear glass with melted glass marbles forming the bumps he had felt inside of himself. He stood up and turned to face Vivienne, towering over the woman in front of him, pulling his ragged trousers up to his hips. 

“That felt good,” his voice rumbled. His cock twitched, and he was reminded of his jutting erection as the material shifted against the shaft as he lazily tied the sides together again. The Iron Bull looked at her expectantly, awaiting further orders. She ignored him instead by picking up a book from one of the many piles around the alcove, and resumed her relaxed position on the lounge. 

“I am glad darling it pleased you darling, but unfortunately I have to forbid you from pleasing yourself from now on,” she responded, “I did say that I would not reward your disappointment.” The Iron Bull groaned, and he glowered at her with full malice in his heart. She knew he had been on the road for weeks, that tavern wenches would have wanted a piece of The Iron Bull. She had trained him to restrain himself from sating his desire and elopement with others. From there, she convinced him to stop pleasing himself unless told to, which at first, she did often enough. Slowly he was becoming ensnared to complete her commands and rise to the challenges. It became a game that he was well rewarded for. Then the commands had started to lessen, at first down to every second day, to the third, and fourth, and almost down to every two weeks. The Iron Bull was always on edge, becoming irate at others. He knew that he could have submitted to his body’s needs to bring himself to pleasure, but he wanted to please her and receive her compliments. She was smart though, she replaced his urges with visits to her hold above the hall instead, satiating his need once a week. Occasionally their meetings were disrupted by their duties to the Inquisition, but Vivienne had always found a way to meet with Bull as soon as they could. He was coping with her demands and restrictions for now, as he felt he was promised release when he was in her presence. She smirked at him as this command rolled through his head and he contemplated what it would truly mean. He was losing his friends because of his demeanour, and she knew the effect this demand would have of him. It would mean she would utterly own him. She truly was exercising her control over him. 

“No Vivienne. Katoh. This does not work for me,” Bull rejected.

“You will do as I say, Qunari.”

The Iron Bull scowled at the woman in front of him, seeing her as she truly was. A demon in white using magic against him to control him. It had seemed innocent enough at first to let her use ice to relieve pain and heal him. All those remarks she made in the wild about looking out for him were all a trap, and he had fell for it. She had tempted him with kind words and he felt the biggest fool for listening to her. What hurt the most was she had broken a rule that should have been held sacred in theirs acts. He had said no, and she always pushed for more. Always wanting more. He felt his mind drown in a sea of rage the more he stared at. He advanced towards her, his eyes full of anger. Her eyes changed from confidence to fear as Bull clasped one large hand over her throat firmly.

“Katoh. You have no hold over me woman,” Bull said calmly. He pushed her slightly to enforce his meaning, and she lay sprawled over the lounge awkwardly.

“You’re mine, Iron Bull. There is no-one else you know who can do this to you. You’ll be coming back to me, on your knees,” she spat out as he left her in her own indignance. The Iron Bull stormed down the stairs to return to the celebrations outside. He ignored the cool breeze brushing against his buttocks and found the first woman who giggled at him as he walked past.

“Hey! There’s a tax to enjoying that view,” he swaggered over to the woman, towering over her to assert his presence. She blushed at his sudden advance, but pined towards him nonetheless. He smirked at her, trying to exercise his charm in full. He brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear gently, “So, would you like to see the rest of The Iron Bull?” The woman giggled again, beside herself at the attention. 

“Oh, so the Iron Bull is open for business again. Is that how it is?” Dorian joked as he walked past. He held a mug of ale in each hand and sipped at both waiting for the Iron Bull’s response.

“Are you asking for yourself, Vint?” The Iron Bull retorted. The black headed man laughed and took another swig from his drinks. “Not on your life, big man. Besides, I thought you hated anyone remotely Tevinter?” The Iron Bull ignored the jibe and returned his attention to the woman he leaned over, “Well I am open to business, as he put it. So then. Are you interested? I don’t have much time.” The woman tittered, nodding her head, “I know a place up on the walls.” The Iron Bull swooped the woman up in his arms, “Well then, lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by "Temotation" by "The Tea Party". Didn't get how I felt about the lyrics portrayed into this writing as I wanted to, but I feel like the song still fits if thought about from Bull's POV. Hope you enjoyed this!

**Author's Note:**

> Please make some comments on what you think of this. I haven't written in a long time, so please feel free to comment on my style or mistakes.  
> I hope you enjoyed this piece. There will be more!  
> (And yes, I will elaborate more on Vivienne and Iron Bull, but I don't know much about their relationship in the game. I will need to do some more research first. )
> 
> This story is inspired by "Do I wanna Know?" by "Arctic Monkeys".


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